Not Your Average Cinderella Story [Prince Harry]

Chapter 8

Wow I am so sorry it has taken me so long to update.  I just recently got over my semi-depression over losing all the chapters I had written months ago.  I thought the computer people saved all my work, but of course I lost all my progress.  Last week I wrote up to chapter 13, and I have planned to do nothing but write next week, hopefully finishing the book.  Thank you everyone for the support, messages, comments, and votes.  You're the reason I finally got back to writing and am determined to finish this story. :)

And without further ado, on with the story...

Chapter 8

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

I turned around abruptly, unsurprised to see a seething Harry towering above me.

“What ever could you mean?” I asked, faking a sugary sweet voice making sure my eyes were open wider in feigned shock.

He looked taken aback, opening and closing his mouth a couple times like a fish while I stared at him.  I frowned, not comprehending his strange behavior when I realized something.

Guys definitely did not speak like I just did.

“Um... ahem.”  I cleared my throat awkwardly.  “What are you staring at, oaf?” I deepened my voice considerably and narrowed my eyes at him.

He quickly forgot why he was confused and returned my glare with as much hatred as I assumed was shown in my own eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.  I tried to ignore the way his muscles attractively flexed and unflexed beneath his suit, reminding myself that I hated him, no matter how tempting he was.  He looked like he was trying to send a mental message to me, and I had no doubt in my mind that it involved something close to a death threat.  I gulped at the thought but, being the stubborn and stupid person I was, crossed my arms and cocked my hip, sending the prince a message that I would never back down.

As our stare-down continued, I felt as though I was in one of those old western cowboy movies where each opponent stands on either end of the street, staring and trying to intimidate the other, refusing to drop their gazes.  We were just missing the guns, which was probably a good thing for both of our safety.

He seemed to get tired of our silent warfare and was the first to speak, still maintaining his hostile stance.

“Look, I’m not going to waste my time just standing here.  Answer my question,” he spat.

I tsked.  “Temperamental now aren’t we?” I mocked him, admittedly trying to rile him up at bit.

He rolled his eyes.  “How old are you?  Five?”

“You know I wouldn’t be so hostile if I were you,” I remarked, refusing to acknowledge his sarcastic comment.

“And what makes you think you have the right to threaten me?”

“Have you forgotten already, princess?”

He glared at the nickname but stayed silent, waiting for me to continue.

“I have this little thing called blackmail.  Do you know what that is?” I talked to him like a child.

“Don’t test me.”  

“Or what?” I responded cheekily.

He paused, soon flaunting that sickening, evil smile of his.  “You know what, I’ve had a change of heart.”

“What?” I asked, uninterested.

“You’re fired.”

That statement didn’t even phase me.